


Who'll Stop the Rain?

by momentofzen



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, too much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentofzen/pseuds/momentofzen
Summary: Stephen has to leave. He always does.Set in late 2000.





	

" _Jon_?" Stephen said softly into the hair of the man he had his arms wrapped around, breathing his scent in. The storm outside seemed to punish the rooftop of Jon's messy apartment, and everyone who happened to be out there on the street, suffering with the cold weather and getting soaked while trying to get a cab.  
Although it was almost four A.M, the noise outside would make anyone think it was the middle of the afternoon or something. New York never slept, after all. Yellow taxis honking like crazy, loud cars, blinding lights and people.  
"Jon." Stephen said again as he looked down at his lover with brown eyes that seemed to be melted chocolate to the untrained eye, his glasses on the nightstand by the bed. His voice this time a little louder to wake Jon up.  
They were both tired, after all. Tired and sore.  
Stephen felt bad for the other man as he thought about how rough he was on him, earlier, and about how sore he probably was. But the dark-haired man couldn't hold back a small smile that threatened to escape his lips, having his way with Jon was always fun.  
But _godfuckingdamnit_ , there came the guilt once more. He had a wife, and he loved her. He loved her. He _loved_  her.  
_Did he?_  
" _Jonathan_." Stephen brushed some of his lover's dark hair aside, and took a moment to admire how beautiful he looked underneath the faint yellow light from his lampshade, adding up to the one that crept in all the way from the street down there, inbetween his half opened curtains.  
"Hm?" Stephen soon heard a hoarse, low voice and pretty soon, was facing a pair of curious grey blue eyes which stared up at him.  
"Hey." Stephen murmured softly and nuzzled into the sweaty mess that was Jon's hair, and sighed softly.  
"Hey." Jon replied with a small yawn, calloused hands clinging to the other's man torso a little bit harder, with a little more urgency.  
He could sense Stephen had something to say. The silence that broke in between the two of them served as a confirmation to what Jon had been thinking. This wasn't the first time they'd had sex, after all. After the sex, there were always apologetic smiles, guilt and rushed goodbyes.  
"Jon, I've been thinking and... _We can't keep doing this."_ Stephen finally said, after a while and he swore he could feel Jon breaking. It felt like someone had punched his chest, while stabbing him at the same time.   
"... I mean, I have a wife and _you_ —... have your girlfriend."  
It took Stephen a while to notice Jon had closed his eyes while listening to him speak — it physically hurt him.  
But how could Stephen leave him, _how could he dare to do such thing when being near him, kissing him, having his way with him, holding him close was all he wanted to do?_ How could Stephen leave the _one person_ who made his _heart beat faster?_ How could he?  
How could he leave him when they've worn each other's clothes, dwelled in each other's tight embrace, when _he_ was the one Jon swore eternal love to in between moans and sloppy kisses, when his lips practically knew every little unexplored corner of Jon's body? How _could_ he?  
" _Stephen_... —" Jon's voice broke. Although he was older than him, Jon always felt fragile next to his colleague. Jon didn't know what else to say, what else to do. They'd have this conversation _everyfuckingtime_  after they had sex and it'd always end up with Jon bursting into tears and Stephen feeling guilty and saying things he'd regret later.  
"I _can't_." Stephen said, running a hand through his own dark hair. "I can't keep on pretending I don't have a family. I can't do it, Jon. I also _can't_ leave you... I... —" He was on the verge of crying.  
"Then _don't_... —" Out came a simple, small murmur. "Don't leave me. _Stay._ Please. I'll even make you breakfast I... —" Jon felt hot, silent tears streaming down his face, and didn't even notice Stephen had already stood up.  
My fucking God. It took Stephen every fibre he had in his body to leave Jon like that, in tears, when all he wanted to do was kiss him. _He wanted to kiss him so bad._  
Stephen searched around for his clothes, and noticed Jon had stopped crying. Instead of crying, Jon had chosen to stare up at the ceiling with burning, red eyes. Unblinking.  
Once the younger male was done dressing, he slowly reached for his glasses and put them on.  
"Jon... I...—" Out came a soft voice, with a desperate undertone to it.  
" _Leave_. I'll be fine. I'm fucking used to it. No stress, no worries. I'll see you Monday, _pal."_  Jon replied, emotionless, in an almost mechanical way. They'd rehearsed this too many times.  
"... _love you_." Was the only thing Stephen could say as he walked through the door, and closed it before walking out of Jon's apartment and getting into his car. As soon as Stephen sat down on the driver's seat, a loud sigh left his lips. He tiredly rested his forehead on the steering wheel... _God,_ he felt like he hadn't slept in ages. It was no use coming back home now, he told his wife he'd be working late, and she was used to it. She was probably asleep. He thought about Jon and how the two of them, in a few hours, would greet each other in the studio, fresh-faced and exchange friendly smiles like nothing ever happened between them. It's what they always did. But at that moment, he wished it didn't have to be that way.   
Stephen closed his eyes and took a moment to listen to the rain, and how being left so torn, so confused felt so familiar to him. In some way, sadness had become family. _His_ family.

Coming back to his senses, he could swear he heard his own heart break into tiny million pieces. He could also swear he heard loud sobs, perhaps coming from Jon's apartment.

It began to rain harder.  
_Stephen didn't think it'd ever stop._

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Stephen nor Jon, though sometimes I wish I did.  
> This is my first Stewbert fic, so please be nice in the comments. ♡  
> I know this is way too cliche, btw. Shh.  
> Work title inspired by a Creedence Clearwater Revival song.


End file.
